


we form a tarot pack

by cherry_darling



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:06:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry_darling/pseuds/cherry_darling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how you find out that you’re in a relationship: one hot day, you both skip class to go hang out by the pool at your apartment complex and on the way over, Loras just grabs your hand without any preamble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we form a tarot pack

**Author's Note:**

> for the birthday of the lovely ogiraffe on livejournal <3333

you’re the only thing i ever want anymore

live on coffee and flowers

(THE NATIONAL)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a boy with golden brown curls that look like a halo when the sun hits them just right, and you think you might love him. His hands are rough and calloused when they cup your cheeks to kiss you and his smile is shy at first, growing bolder as time passes.

But this is not the beginning of our story.

 

 

 

 

 

You have gone to this school for three years now and Cressan (he’s your guardian, the man who basically raised you after your parents’ death in a car crash but it was mostly an endless string of nannies and other servants, and never your eldest brother Robert) told you the day you left when the sun hung low in the sky, he told you, “Renly, you will flourish at this school” and you have and you suspect he is proud, but he never tells you so.

You double major in film studies and political science, and no one really understands this combination and after your first year, whenever someone asks what your major is, you just answer with one or the other because you’re tired of hearing “oh, that’s an interesting combination” but you get high marks in all of your classes and in the end, you suppose that’s all that really matters.

And you’re proud of yourself, and you suppose that matters, too.

 

 

 

 

 

Robert never won an election, he won through bloodshed and a brutal, brutal victory but if you want to eventually get to a position of power, you’re expected to do so fairly (at least in a fair way to the public eye – they don’t need to know what goes on behind the scenes) and you’ve been naturally charming and handsome and <i>likeable</i> for your entire life.

Deep down, you’ve always known this is why Stannis hates you, but you tease him anyway, and you don’t really know Robert very well so deeper down, you consider yourself an only child.

But you take the internship position that Robert offers you, anyway.

You’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, particularly when said gift horse can open even more doors for you.

 

 

 

 

 

And so that’s where our story begins.

 

 

 

 

 

There’s another intern there, another boy who got in through familial connections and he has golden brown curls and white, even teeth and Robert claps a hand on the boy’s back and says in his booming voice, “Renly, this is Loras Tyrell. His father is Mace Tyrell,” and Loras is the most beautiful boy you have ever seen and he does this thing where he just sort of nods at you and lifts his chin to you in lieu of a verbal greeting.

For the first time in your life, you’re rendered speechless and you nearly drop the stack of folders you’re holding.

Robert leaves the room which is suddenly far too small.

This is the first thing Loras says to you:

“I start at your school in a month.”

You really do drop your files, then and when Loras drops to his knees to help you pick them up, your hand brushes his.

His nails are neat and trimmed and you resist the urge to say, “Maybe we could hang out at school or something when you start.”

Instead, you say, “Thank you. See you around,” and flee the room.

 

 

 

 

Loras ends up instigating your first friendly outing, the same way he instigates a lot of things in the relationship the pair of you end up having.

He sits across from you at a coffee place down the way from your office and he drinks tea and you drink black coffee and he bums a cigarette off of you.

He says, “What are you studying?” and you say “film and political science” and it’s the first time you mention both of your focuses in two years.

“Film and political science,” Loras repeats, and he hums a little, lips curving into a smile. “That’s cool.”

“What are you going to study?” you ask, and you’re genuinely interested.

Blowing a smoke ring, Loras pauses. He says, “Theatre,” in a guarded sort of way, and then he shrugs. “My sister Margaery is going to study political science,” he adds and shrugs again.

You just nod and underneath the table, you nudge his foot with your own.

For a moment, Loras’s face is unreadable.

Then he grins and nudges you back.

 

 

 

 

 

One day, Loras reveals that he’s on scholarship for the lacrosse team at school and without realizing it, you agree to make it to one of his games.

(Eventually, one game will lead to every game and you’ll scream your lungs out in the stands even after you’ve graduated and you’ll be seated next to his sister Margaery and you never really enjoyed sports before now, but you mostly like the way Loras kisses you after the games. He tastes of salt and sweat and he smells like grass, the green stains on his elbows and knees. He’ll bruise his knuckles and you’ll press your lips to them and the rest of the bruises on his body, and you’ll share a grin.)

 

 

 

 

School starts again and you offer to show Loras around campus and Loras lives in the dormitories, but mostly he hangs out at your apartment.

You have your own apartment and it’s _yours_  and you’ve lived there ever since you started at school, because Robert bought it for you one year and Stannis had just ground his teeth and bitten out, “the boy should learn to pay for his own things in life, Robert” and you’d made some remark about the dormitories at school being shit and “Robert is just looking out for me” (even though Robert was actually doing no such thing – Robert reminds you of rich, neglectful parents who try to buy their children’s love and in this case, he’s buying _your_ love with a sixteenth floor apartment with a balcony and amazing view of the city – and honestly? You don’t really mind) and anyway, you think Loras is too good for the dormitories.

Loras sits on your bed the second time he’s over, perched on the very edge with his ankles crossed and his hands limp in his lap like he doesn’t know what to do with them and when he stands up, he smoothes the duvet with his palms.

 

 

 

 

 

You’ve never been shy before but Loras makes your stomach tie into knots and your tongue becomes very heavy and clumsy in your mouth and you have this weird need to impress him, the way you’ve never wanted to impress anyone before.

In a weird way, though, you think Loras is trying to impress you, too, because he’s started to casually name drop directors and actors and writers that he knows you like, and you just chuckle when he mentions Satyajit Ray one day and pat him on the back, letting your hand slide down to between his shoulder blades for just a moment.

 

 

 

 

 

This is how you find out that you’re in a relationship: one hot day, you both skip class to go hang out by the pool at your apartment complex and on the way over, Loras just grabs your hand without any preamble. It’s unexpected but his hand fits sort of perfectly in yours and his fingers are long and tangle with your own.

You both roll up the legs of your jeans up to your knees and dangle your feet in the pool, the water unnaturally blue and you hold hands the entire time. Your palms are drenched with sweat by the time you let go (sweat from nerves, but mostly from the heat) and you don’t mind.

The next time Loras sits on your bed, you’re leaning against your pillows and Loras’s head is on your stomach and you can idly card your fingers through his hair and it’s nice and it’s comfortable.

Loras rolls over and presses his face against your stomach and he says, “I’m really happy I met you,” in this soft, muffled tone and you smile.

 

 

 

 

You graduate that year but you’re still living in the city in the same apartment on the sixteenth story with the balcony and the view and Loras attends your graduation and you take him to Storm’s End for the break and when you come back to the city, Loras’s face is sun tanned and his hair is more gold than brown and his teeth are burning white when he grins at you.

The break was a greedy one, and one that you guard close to your heart. You spent your days on the beach and your nights in clubs, drinking gin and tonic and Loras is a good dancer, but you’re better so you dance together and it eventually turns into grinding on each other and Loras laughing into your sweaty neck, his breath sticky and humid on your damp skin, smelling of alcohol and rosewater, and you could kiss him here and it didn’t matter, because here you’re not Robert Baratheon’s younger brother and you can just blend in with the crowd.

It’s nice, you think, it feels like escape and you can escape for four glorious months so you do and when Stannis calls you up to ask about the news that you’ve been spotted kissing Mace Tyrell’s son in the street, you just laugh and pour yourself another glass of wine.

(You pour your glass too full and it slops onto the table, soaking into the wood and leaving a stain and you just laugh again.)

You return to the city with Loras and his brown skin and golden hair and white teeth and you think that you could really love this boy.

 

 

 

 

Loras goes to class and practice and you go to work (you’re still working for Robert, working your way through the ranks) and sometimes you make each other dinner but mostly you order take out. Sometimes Loras delivers roses (red, pink, white, it doesn’t matter) to you at work without a name on the card and you arrange them in a vase at home.

You still go to clubs but you don’t dance as closely but you don’t really try to conceal your relationship, either. You spend your time together by the pool, the chlorine soaking into your skin and when you kiss Loras’s neck later, he tastes like sweat and chemicals.

He is taller than you are now, his hair longer than yours is, but your shoulders are broader. He has calluses on his hands and fingers from lacrosse and your palms are smooth.

 

 

 

 

You are twenty now and you haven’t really loved anyone before, but you love Loras’s eyes and smile – sometimes sly and sometimes shy but you really love the ones he saves for you and you alone, and you love his high, clear brow and the way he cracks his knuckles when he’s nervous before a game.

You press your nose into the back of Loras’s neck at night and inhale deeply, closing your eyes.

Under the covers, Loras shifts. You don’t know if he’s awake or not, so you go still next to him.  He mumbles something and then whispers, “I’ll skip class tomorrow if you skip work. I’ll go down to the bakery and buy us scones and lemon cakes for breakfast.” He yawns and you smile against the back of his neck. “And I’ll make you tea, too. And we can stay in bed all day.”

“I can’t skip work,” you murmur back, running your fingers through his hair. His hair is smooth and soft now and you give him a gentle tug at his left temple. “I have a perfect attendance record. Besides, without me, Westeros would go to shit.”

Loras just whines and buries his face in his pillow and you can’t deny him anything so you compromise and take off at lunch, claiming a migraine coming on and, true to his word, Loras has picked up scones and lemon cakes, but he’s also bought sandwiches and apples and peaches and you don’t stay in bed all day but you go to the park and lay out a blanket and have a picnic. You find a secluded spot, grassy and green and warm from the sun.

Loras also packed wine and the two of you drink it straight from the bottle.

The sun is starting to set and you lay on your back, hands folded under your head and Loras puts his head on your stomach. You don’t say anything as you start to feel the last rays on your face and you run your fingers through his hair.

Loras reaches up and strokes the backs of his fingers against your cheek. He says, “We could stay like this forever."

You don’t say anything. You just catch his hand and kiss his knuckles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_end._


End file.
